


Control

by crystalkei



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 19:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalkei/pseuds/crystalkei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was written as a fic of a fic. A continuation of importantmetaphors really lovely, dark, BEAUTIFUL AU Darkest of Marks. It takes place after the end of her story. But was really just an excuse for me to write some janitor closet porn. She's given her blessing for me to publish this. But you should really read her story first. Actually read it like 18 times. It's that good. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t run to my home,” she shot back. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. </p><p>“You know what I meant,” Bellamy ground out. “If you were just going to get upset then why’d you bother going to that cesspool of idiocy?”</p><p>“Because sitting around with you all day is suffocating me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [importantmetaphors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/importantmetaphors/gifts).
  * Inspired by [darkest of marks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2906429) by [importantmetaphors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/importantmetaphors/pseuds/importantmetaphors). 



 She wasn’t sure how her feet ended up bringing her here but she didn’t really want to think about what it meant, either. She jiggled the handle, expecting it to be locked, but it wasn’t. The door opened and Clarke slipped inside. She tried to shut the door but something stopped it. A boot clad foot stood in opening. He took a minute to catch his breath before he opened it and let himself inside.  

 Clarke wasn’t going to shy away from him. She was hurt by the words from the party but she wasn’t going to let him in on any of those feelings. She didn’t owe him and he didn’t deserve anything. So she stood in the middle of the small room, she breathed deeply to compose herself and set her face impassive.

 “You could just wait outside, you know, I’m sure no one is going to come kill me in this closet.” Bellamy tilted his head, his mouth was in a straight line, his lips were tight as if he was trying to hold back. Reaching behind him without looking he locked the door. Of course he’d know this closet so damn well he wouldn’t need to turn.

 “The current janitor could walk in at any moment,” he offered in explanation but Clarke couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Likely story. “I’d really rather be home right now, if you were going to bust out of that stupid party you should have run home.” His words were low and she could see he was trying to stay calm, the muscles of his jaw tensing gave him away.

 “I can’t run to  _my_  home,” she shot back. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

 “You know what I meant,” Bellamy ground out. “If you were just going to get upset then why’d you bother going to that cesspool of idiocy?”

 “Because sitting around with you all day is suffocating me.” 

 It wasn’t that bad. Sometimes it wasn’t bad at all. But every time she thought it might not be the worst thing ever to be babysat by someone who betrayed you in the deepest way, every time he smiled in response to a joke Octavia was telling to try and break the bitter ice in the room, she remembered the sound of his little snore at night or the way he bit his lip before he moved an important chess piece and she felt sick to her stomach.

 For just a moment, Clarke thought he looked hurt. It was just a split second though, and his eyes were back to steely.   
  
 “Alright then, I guess listening to a bunch of privileged assholes tell you you’re worthless is more exciting than sitting around and trying to avoid looking at me in a 12 by 12 box,” he said, bringing low blows himself. “I know, my house isn’t as luxurious as yours but I had no idea it was that bad.”

 “You know it’s not the location,” Clarke replied with narrowed eyes. They glared at each other for a few seconds before he glanced down at her dress. Actually, it looked like he was taking in her whole body and the way he was so close to her was heating her skin. She tried to swallow discreetly but he looked back up at her when she did. He knew what he was doing. She balled her fists to bring back that anger she was feeling just a minute ago. 

 “What’d you do to this dress?” he asked disgusted. It was her only dress. The one she’d worn to the last party she’d gone to, the first time they’d…the first time he’d decided to take advantage of her or keep her close or whatever the game he was playing at the time.  
  
 The gray dress was shorter, she’d cut the bottom fabric off in an attempt to shock people at the ridiculous party with the absurd people she didn’t even like. Octavia helped her alter the top, removing fabric and placing some embroidery, changing it from sleeveless to a skinnier strap. Her shoulders were bare and the edge of her collarbones could be seen. Clarke thought it looked really cute. That little remark of his brought all that anger up front again.   
  
 “You’re supposed to make sure no one is going to hurt me and you just now noticed what I was wearing? It’s a wonder I’m not dead yet.”   
  
 His brows came down and she could see him biting his cheek. He wasn’t just angry now, he was livid, probably because she’d insulted his ability to do his job. It surely didn’t have anything to do with her safety.

 “I get that you were just trying to project some kind of cool confidence in front of the upper crust assholes in that party, those assholes I was watching, making sure they weren’t the ones coming for you.” 

 “If the rest of my life is going to be living in your quarters, with you following me around, maybe I wish someone would just get it over with, maybe you should go float yourself and let the bad guys come and get me. It’d be far less painful.” Clarke realized she’d gone too far when the last word made it’s way out. Her voice cracked and she’d betrayed her feelings. She certainly didn’t want him to know that his actions still hurt her. But it was then that she saw, really saw in him, something she could have only wished for.   
  
 Bellamy broke. He cracked. A random passerby wouldn’t see it, but she couldn’t even say she imagined it. He gulped. He looked away quickly, but came back to her eyes again, but they were soft. And they were guilty. And…hurt. It only lasted two seconds, but she saw it.   
  
 “If you’d rather die than have me be the one watching you, I’ll talk to Shumway tomorrow.”   
  
 He took a step back, but she pushed him against the door. He wasn’t even shocked. If he thought she was going to hurt him, he was going to let her and that made her feel powerful. Instead though, she kissed him. Hard. Teeth banging, falling into him, scratching at the back of his neck, desperate kisses. The way he kissed her back made her feel even more powerful. He came at her like he was hungry and she was a last meal. But only at her mouth, his arms stayed at his side, as though he was waiting for her to snap out of it.   
  
 Clarke jumped and he finally reacted, catching her thighs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Boldly, she pulled away from his mouth to watch his face as she angled herself over his pants zipper, his eyes were closed as he moaned at the contact. Bellamy walked forward, carrying her and propping her just barely against a shelf, just enough of her butt rested on it to give him some access. She licked and nibbled along his ear, eliciting more grunts and desperate breathes from him while he lifted her dress around her waist and she undid his pants.

 Bellamy tried to pull her panties down but she shook her head against and whispered, “Just move them.” He nodded and ran his rough fingers over her a couple of times before entering her. She cried out and he stopped, obviously misunderstanding her, she shook her head and clenched down on him making him groan. 

 It was messy, it was quick, and it was forceful. They’d never had sex like this and she felt her skin tingle from the thrill of it. In the heat of the moment she wasn’t sure if she was using him or if he was using her and she didn’t really care. They both seemed desperate for the intimacy, Clarke could file that away to agonize over later.

 When they came crashing down, her arms had been behind her, using the janitor’s shelf for leverage. She was surprised they hadn’t brought the whole thing down on top of them. Bellamy gently put her down and turned away. Clarke adjusted her dress and underwear, she smoothed her hands across the front of her dress and then through her hair. 

 That same flash of control and might that propelled her to start this encounter struck her again as she listened to him try to control his breathing.   
  
 “Did you hear what they said to me?” she asked and watched him flinch. He shook his head but hadn’t turned around to face her yet.

 “They said I was a waste of space and had to fuck someone from the bottom to get any attention from the top.”

 He turned quickly but she couldn’t look at him so she started for the door. Clarke knew he’d follow her, but Bellamy surprised her by rushing to confront her, he stepped in her path and went to hold her shoulders, but backed off at the last moment.

 “I told you they were assholes. You aren’t like them. You’re better than them.”

 “I’m not better than anyone,” she said calmly. “But just now, just a few minutes ago, I took some control back and I used you instead of you using me.”

 Bellamy winced. He didn’t even try to hide it. “I deserved that.” The admission caught her off guard. “But I…” he started but stopped, looked away, and then back at her to start again. “All the things I’ve…fuck it. You’re better than them. Just know that, okay?”   
  
 Clarke didn’t bother giving him a reply. She just started walking back to Section 17, he followed behind her and they made the trip in silence. Octavia was already asleep when they got in so Clarke excused herself to get ready for bed. When she came out, she crawled into the little bed that she’d spent so many nights in before everything changed. Her mother had a rollaway cot sent in when she made the arrangements for Clarke to be stowed away here, it’s where Bellamy had been sleeping, but tonight when he came to bed she stopped him.   
  
 “Sleep here,” she said, choosing her words carefully to make sure it didn’t sound like a request. Bellamy stared at her for a moment. He seemed to be puzzling out why she’d say it.   
  
 “Is this about the dicks at the party or the closet?” he finally asked.

 “It’s about me being in control and you being the one not sure what the fuck is happening,” Clarke responded honestly, well, she thought it was honestly. She hoped that was honest. She didn’t want to explore any other reasons right now. 

 Bellamy nodded his head, his mouth turned down, he was agreeing that he deserved it again. He moved in next to her, she rolled to face the wall and he molded around her, his arm going over her stomach, pulling the blanket around them.   
  
 “I haven’t forgiven you,” she said, he tensed behind her. “But I want to, maybe, one day,” Clarke whispered.   
  
 “I don’t deserve to be forgiven,” he said into her hair but his hand tightened on her stomach. “But…”

 “Don’t,” she cut him off. “Just go to sleep.”

 Clarke didn’t want to know, she just wanted to be in control for a little bit longer. 

 


End file.
